Brothers
by BSparrow
Summary: A look at Daryl's past and his relationship with his brother. Set prior to the events of the show and rated for language, violence, and the suggestions of sex and drug use. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

"Daryl!"

Daryl sat straight up, his brain going from dead sleep to painfully, fully awake.

"Daryl! Get your ugly ass out here!"

That sounded like…like Merle. Merle was home.

He didn't know quite what to make of that. He'd expected his brother to be in the pen for another six months and now suddenly he was back. Part of him was terrified but the rest of him? Well, the rest of him was still that same goofy kid who idolized his big brother.

He shot out the front door and down the wobbly front steps, drawing up short in front of the mass of solid muscle standing in the yard. Merle looked like a machine. No fat, no mercy.

Merle smacked him on the shoulder hard, pulling him into a rough hug, and Daryl couldn't help but flinch at the stifling pressure of his brother's arms around him.

A throaty giggle reached his ears and it was only then that Daryl noticed the two women leaning against a beat-up red Camaro a few feet away. Merle caught him staring.

"Brought home some friends, baby brother," Merle grinned at him, wiggling his brows as he took a step back to give him an appraising look, "Got skinny since I left. Daddy ain't been feeding you?"

Daryl felt his stomach turn as the moment he'd been dreading arrived. He'd had his doubts before but suddenly, it was clear to him that he'd done wrong by not trying to tell Merle. He'd put it off until it was too late and then he'd just been worried about surviving. Well, he couldn't put it off any longer. Time to man up.

"Daddy, uh...Daddy's gone," he mumbled, unable to meet his brother's eyes.

"Well, where the fuck did he go?"

Daryl shrugged, gaze flicking back towards the girls in time to see one pass a half-full bottle to the other.

"I mean...he's gone. He-he...died."

Merle took a step back as if Daryl had shoved him. When he didn't speak, Daryl looked up to see his brother's eyes burning holes right through him.

"He died? When? What the fuck happened?"

Daryl swallowed hard, his mind instantly returning to that morning two years ago when he'd walked through the door after a night of hiding out in the woods and found his father motionless on the couch, dull eyes staring straight up at the ceiling. He'd already been cold to the touch.

"Don't know. Drank himself to death, I reckon. Been about two years now," Daryl answered quietly, fighting the urge to cower as Merle loomed towards him.

"And you didn't fucking let me know?" Merle growled, jerking Daryl up by the front of his shirt, "Didn't want me at his funeral or what?"

Daryl shook his head, clawing at his brother's hand to remain on his feet, "There weren't no funeral, Merle! No money for one. I didn't know how to get ahold of you...didn't know how to get a letter to the prison or nothing like that."

Merle spat on the ground by their feet and shoved Daryl away from him, "You never do anything right, boy. What would you do without ol' Merle, huh? I don't know how the hell you survived by yourself."

Daryl felt that old familiar sting, as real as if he'd been slapped, and clenched his jaw to hide any sign of emotion. Any sign of weakness. He knew that would only earn him a black eye.

"Fuck," Merle growled again, dragging his fingers over his close-cropped scalp as he crossed the yard to tear the bottle out of one of the girl's hand, "So Daddy's gone, huh?"

Daryl nodded and Merle tipped the bottle back, draining it before tossing it away into the tall grass with a hiss.

"I bet, deep down, you was glad about it. Weren't you, boy?" Merle's smile was sudden and devious and it made Daryl back away towards the trailer, fully aware of what a smile like that meant.

Merle turned towards the girls, turning on the charm, "Daryl didn't like our daddy much, you see. Hell, guess he had every right not to like him. I took a lot of punches from the old man in my day but by the time little Daryl came along, the son-of-a-bitch had gotten into whittling."

His words were heavy in the silence. The girls looked confused, glancing at one another and then back to Merle and shifting their weight awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Meaning he liked to play with his knife," Merle clarified, turning back to his brother with gleaming eyes, "Ain't that right, little brother? Hell, you didn't kill him did you, Darlena?"

Daryl felt the impact of his words like a punch to the nose and backed farther away, stumbling over the bottom step before turning and heading for the safety of the trailer. He couldn't believe Merle was bringing that up. Not now. Not in front of these strange women. Not when they'd never even discussed it with each other.

He couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand to hear Merle making light of the hell of their childhood. Couldn't stand the way those two women looked at him with sympathy. With pity.

He slammed the door behind him but it didn't stop the sound of Merle's laughter from invading the trailer, from ringing in his ears and making him feel like he was going to throw up. The anger was building up inside him, festering in his gut and turning into rage.

He heard Merle's heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and that rage exploded out of his fist and into the wall, leaving a gaping hole in the flimsy faux wood paneling.

"That's it, boy. Let it all out! Tear this shit hole down," Merle cackled, leaning in the doorway and digging a can of Skoal out of his back pocket.

Daryl turned towards him slowly, sniffing and wiping his nose on his sleeve. He could smell the tobacco from across the room, sweet and earthy. The smell of it always took him back to a day when he was just a kid and Merle had given him his first chew. He'd promptly swallowed it and it had made him sick as a dog. Merle had laughed for days about that and told everyone they knew. But still, he'd taken care of him while Daryl was puking his guts out in the woods.

"Hell, just don't cry about it like a little pussy," Merle rolled his eyes, cramming a pinch of the tobacco inside his lip.

Daryl swallowed that lump in his throat, flexing his aching knuckles. Merle eyed him, reading him as if he knew his every thought. And he probably did, Merle had always had a way of knowing what people were thinking. He got it from their father.

The thought of Merle knowing everything that was in his head made sweat pop out on the back of Daryl's neck, trickling under his collar uncomfortably and making him squirm. The stale, hot air in the trailer only made it worse.

"C'mere. Let me clean up your hand and then I'm taking you out," Merle led him to the kitchen, scrounging around for a towel, "One of them girls is yours, little brother."

Daryl looked up in surprise, flinching as Merle grabbed his hand and examined the split skin, "N-no, no I don't want-"

"Shut up, Darlena. It's about damn time you got your dick wet. People are gon' start thinking you're some kind of freak. If they don't already," Merle snorted, reaching out to turn on the faucet.

Nothing happened and he glared back at his brother, "What the fuck?"

Daryl shrugged, "Couldn't pay the electric bill. Been shut off for a long time."

"God Almighty," Merle sighed, "You been boiling that creek water like I taught you, ain't ya?"

Daryl nodded, watching uncertainly as Merle licked the corner of the towel and dabbed away the streaks of blood on Daryl's knuckles.

"There ya go. Good as new," Merle tossed the towel and wrapped his arm tight around Daryl's shoulders, rubbing his knuckles roughly against his brother's scalp as he led him towards the door.

Daryl wasn't sure if Merle's embrace was meant to be friendly and reassuring or if it was meant to keep him from escaping. It sure as hell felt like the latter. He tried digging in his heels and ducking out from below his brother's arm but Merle wasn't having it.

His brother grunted and tightened his grip, "Now, now, little brother. Let's not keep the ladies waiting anymore."

Daryl realized there was no escaping the situation. Dread formed a hard knot in his chest, sinking into the pit of his stomach like a lead weight.

"I-I don't want to. I don't know what to do," Daryl confessed under his breath, chewing his bottom lip as they marched through the growing darkness.

Across the yard, he could just make out the silhouettes of the two women. The bobbing tips of their cigarettes glowed orange. He could smell the smoke.

"You just follow my lead, little brother. You know ol' Merle will always take care of you."


	2. Chapter 2

"Been looking for you."

Daryl jerked his head around to face the quiet brunette Merle had intended to set him up with. She had been smiling at him all evening, her white teeth gleaming in the darkness of the backseat as the old Camaro roared down empty dirt roads with Merle behind the wheel. And she was still smiling at him now as the door clicked shut behind her, drowning out the music and chaos inside.

Merle had dragged them way out into the woods all the way across town to a party at someone's beat-up old trailer. Daryl had walked inside, heart pounding in his ears, to find the place full of strangers, all half out of their heads. He'd turned on his heel and went right back out the front door but not before he'd seen Merle disappear into a bedroom with both girls and a baggie full of pills.

The girl wobbled a bit now as she moved down the steps, hand clutching at the railing. He scooted over to make room and she sat down beside him, a little closer than he'd expected. Her leg was pressed right up against his and he imagined he could feel the warmth of her skin right through two layers of denim.

"Why are you sitting out here by yourself?"

He could hear the smile in her voice like maybe she was laughing at him so he just shrugged, hands twitching reflexively in his lap as she scooted a little closer. Daryl noticed she smelled like flowers and cigarette smoke. His heart leapt wildly in his chest as her arm snaked around his waist, the contact setting his skin on fire and starting him trembling.

"You ain't much like your brother are you? He told me you had never…"

Her voice was soft now, right by his ear as her words trailed off. He dared to let his gaze slide towards her as he chewed his bottom lip anxiously. Up close he could see that she was older than him, maybe in her late twenties like Merle. She had nice eyes except for the gunk on her eyelashes. It made them look like fuzzy black spider legs.

"You know," she murmured, her other hand landing on his knee and her breasts brushing against his arm, "you'd be pretty cute if you cut your hair."

Daryl nearly jumped out of his skin. He could only suck in a shaky breath as her fingers trailed up his leg, coming to rest firmly against his upper thigh. His heart was thudding violently, painfully in his chest as he felt himself growing hard under her hand. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a knowing smile on her lips and tried to curl away from her touch, frantic and humiliated and waiting for her to laugh at him. To jerk her hand away and mock him or maybe even slap him.

But she didn't. She pressed a kiss against his red-hot cheek and unzipped his jeans with sure fingers. And there on the front steps of a stranger's house, under the yellow porch-light with moths flapping around over their heads, she got down on her knees in front of him and took him into her mouth.

He nearly shot up off the steps, unsure of whether to gasp or cry or scream. His last coherent thoughts were of where to put his hands. Instinct told him to grab hold of her hair but it looked teased and thick with hairspray so he settled for holding onto the wooden step beneath him. And then he heard himself making a choking sound as his mind went blank.

It was over embarrassingly soon and he couldn't meet her eyes when she gently tucked him back in his jeans, patting his knee as she stood up.

"See you around, sweetie," she purred, ruffling his hair a little and lighting a cigarette before she wandered off into the darkness.

He watched the Camaro's glowing red tail lights disappear in a cloud of dust and shivered for a long time after, his mind remaining mercifully blank.

* * *

The sky was beginning to lighten around the edges when Merle finally stumbled out the door, nearly tripping over Daryl's motionless body on the steps.

"Oh, fuck. Shit," he grumbled, rubbing his bleary eyes as they settled on Daryl's face, "Where you been, little brother? Been looking all over for you!"

It was pretty obvious that he hadn't but Daryl didn't argue.

"Tina already gone?" Merle asked, peering at the cars still parked in front of the trailer.

His brother nudged him with the toe of his boot and Daryl finally found his voice, "Who's Tina?"

"The brunette. The one that drove us here?"

"Oh," Daryl answered, feeling the heat returning to his cheeks, "She left a long time ago."

"Fuck," Merle groaned, leaning back against the creaky railing, "You mean to tell me I set you up with a sure thing and you couldn't even get a pity fuck out of it? What the hell is wrong with you, little brother?"

Daryl looked away. He began fidgeting with the torn knee of his jeans as that shivery, overwhelmed feeling came flooding back.

"Shit, you ain't a fag are you?" Merle asked lightly, stooping over until he was eye-level with his brother.

When Daryl didn't reply, he reached out to grasp his brother's chin roughly and jerked his head around to face him, "Look at me, Darlena. Tell me you ain't some kind of fucking fairy."

His fingers tightened with each word, digging into Daryl's flesh until it seemed like they'd press right through to the bone. Daryl met his brother's eyes desperately as Merle loomed over him and suddenly, it was his father staring down at him. The same deep-set, blazing eyes. The same sadistic slash of a mouth curled up in a sneer.

"I ain't," Daryl flinched away, tears stinging at his eyes as he shoved weakly against his brother's grasp, "Fuck off, Merle, I ain't!"

Merle pushed him away with a huff and Daryl slumped back against the steps, the wood biting into his back through his thin t-shirt.

"Then what's the fucking deal, baby brother? You scared of a pussy? They don't bite!"

Daryl just shook his head, biting down on his bottom lip so hard the sharp, metallic taste of his own blood filled his mouth. His mind was so fucked up he couldn't come up with anything worth saying.

Merle looked like he wanted to continue but Daryl saw him peering up at the rapidly paling sky with a frown.

"Guess we better get a move on, little brother. Long walk ahead of us," Merle finally said, stumbling down the steps and out into the yard.

Daryl followed on shaky legs, shivering in the damp morning air, "Can't we call somebody?"

Merle chuckled, looking back at his brother incredulously, "You know somebody willing to come and pick your ass up at this time of the morning?"

Daryl looked away, his voice tiny as he replied, "Maybe that girl Tina would come back and get us."

Merle practically howled at that, "Nah, Tina ain't the kind of girl you call for a ride. Not that kind of ride anyway."

"She seemed nice," Daryl told him hesitantly, feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks.

Merle stopped short, waiting until Daryl drew up beside him before throwing his arm around his brother's shoulder.

"Well, see, that's where you're wrong, little brother. Tina ain't a nice girl. It's about time you learned the difference."

"How can you tell?" Daryl swallowed hard, wincing as Merle staggered a bit, pulling hard on his neck for balance.

"Just, if she's bothering with you, she probably ain't a nice girl. Nice girls don't go for men like us, little brother. You remember that now," Merle paused and met his eyes, hand firm on the back of Daryl's neck, "And if a nice girl is willing to fuck around with the likes of you, she's either trying to piss off her daddy or she's trying to get something from you. Ain't no other reason. Don't you forget that."

Daryl nodded slowly, etching his brother's words into his brain so he'd always remember them. When Merle bothered to try to teach him something, Daryl made sure it stuck. Merle had been around. He always knew what he was talking about.

Daryl felt his jeans slipping then, sliding down low his hips, and he remembered he'd never bothered to button them back up after Tina had left. He stopped short, yanking them back up and hoping like hell Merle hadn't noticed.

He wasn't that lucky.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here, little brother?" Merle cackled, yanking up Daryl's t-shirt to get a good look at his unzipped, sagging jeans, "You sit out there and jack off after she left or did you actually see some action?"

Daryl felt the flames of embarrassment licking at his face and then consuming his whole body as he looked away. He reached down to hastily zip up his pants, the rasp of the metal teeth almost deafening.

"Well damn, boy! Why didn't you say something?" Merle clapped him on the shoulder roughly, grinning from ear to ear, "Fuck, I'm proud of you, little brother."

Merle took hold of his shoulders and squeezed them tight, then dragged him close and scrubbed his knuckles painfully over Daryl's scalp until Daryl pushed him away. It was like they were kids again as they took off out through the woods together, running side by side and dodging between the trees.

Merle was laughing, all traces of their father gone from his beaming face. And it was sick, but Daryl felt a strange sort of pride blooming in his chest. He knew he had nothing to be proud of. A quick blowjob from a girl who felt sorry for him didn't exactly make him a ladies man. But Merle looked so damn pleased that Daryl couldn't stop the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

His brother's words echoed through the early morning stillness and bounced around in Daryl's skull all the way home.

"Proud of you."


	3. Chapter 3

**.:.** _One week later _**.****:.**

At first he thought the pounding was just in his head.

Daryl had spent the night drinking with a coked-up Merle and some of his equally coked-up buddies. He'd lost track of them at some point. His last memory was cloudy but it was of just him and Merle, trying to shoot the empty cans off the back fence and failing miserably. That had been around dawn and now, judging by the sun streaming through the crumpled blinds, it was early afternoon. And he was on the floor.

Climbing to his feet, he noticed Merle slumped across the couch and looking like he was out for good. No sense in trying to rouse Merle when he finally passed out. Merle Dixon didn't wake up until he was good and ready.

The knocking at the door started again, brisk and insistent, matching the throbbing of his head.

"Hold your fucking horses, I'm coming!" he grumbled, stumbling over one of Merle's rifles and cursing as he stubbed his toe.

Daryl threw the door open with a grimace, prepared to tell whoever was on the other side to fuck right off. But he nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw who was standing on the front steps.

The woman jumped back, looking startled as the door banged into the wall before ricocheting back into Daryl's shoulder.

"Uh, hey…" she said, a timid smile curling at her lips.

Daryl nodded hello, not trusting his voice.

Tina.

If he was honest with himself, he hadn't expected to ever see the girl again. Sure it was a small town but still, he never imagined he'd have to look her in the eye after…that. Merle hadn't prepared him for this.

"Can I come in?" she asked uncertainly, peering around him into the house as if she half-expected some sort of gun-wielding maniac to be lurking behind him.

"Merle's asleep," Daryl answered automatically, glancing over his shoulder at his brother's prone form and then back to her curious face.

"I'm not here to see, Merle," her smile widened as she climbed onto the top step, stopping just a few inches away from him.

Daryl squinted down at her doubtfully, "Well then, whatcha here for?"

She rolled her eyes and he noticed with some relief that her eyelashes didn't look like spider legs today. They looked like perfectly normal eyelashes.

"Uh, to see you, Mr. Friendly!"

He frowned, turning her words over and over in his mind as she stood there, staring at him expectantly. Why would she be here to see him? What could she possibly want from him? Money? He shook his head.

"I would have called first but I don't know your number," she shrugged, leaning against the doorway and cocking her hip out to the side so his eyes were drawn to it, like a moth to the flame.

"Don't have a phone," Daryl muttered, finally stepping out of the way and holding the door open for her to step inside.

As her warm, bare arm brushed against his stomach, sending shock waves through his gut, he realized he wasn't even wearing a shirt. Cursing under his breath, he slipped by her and stooped over to dig around through the mess on the coffee table. Maybe it was stupid to worry about his bare chest considering where her mouth had been about seven nights ago but damn it, he didn't even know the woman and he didn't want more of her sympathy.

He was so preoccupied with thoughts of his scarred back that he hadn't even considered the state of the trailer. He slowly became aware of it though, when he had to dig his t-shirt out from under a dozen crushed cans and a greasy McDonald's bag.

Tina was standing in the middle of the room, taking it all in, and he felt a twinge of embarrassment at the look on her face. No question about it, the place was a wreck. A shithole, like Merle had said. The carpet was so filthy he wouldn't dare walk across it without shoes. The couch was shredded, Merle's shit was strewn all over the room, and the hole he'd punched in the wall was still gaping at him.

"Uh, you can sit down. That chair ain't really dirty…just looks that way…" he mumbled, his eyes glued to the floor so he didn't have to see the disgust he knew was probably written all over her face.

Her shoes moved into his field of vision. Bright white tennis shoes with pink laces. The kind of shoes he would have thought only nice girls would wear. They kind of looked like kid shoes.

The chair in question squeaked as she shifted her weight into it.

"You got anything to drink?"

Her words startled him out of his blank stare and he shook his head, "Drank all the beer last night."

"A glass of water would be fine."

"Water's turned off," he muttered, looking away when she got that sympathetic look on her face.

"Oh. Well…why don't you just sit down and talk to me then?" she suggested warmly but he noticed her glancing nervously in Merle's direction.

Daryl glanced around the room before squatting down awkwardly a few feet away from her. She was in the only chair and he didn't exactly want to perch on his brother's sleeping body. That would be just asking for an ass-kicking.

He watched her chewing her lip as a tense sort of silence filled the air. Seconds ticked by while he waited for her to say something but she just started biting her fingernails.

He cleared his throat, the phlegmy sound embarrassingly loud, "Uh, did you need something?"

She looked like she wanted to laugh, "Not much on small talk, huh?"

He shrugged, feeling intensely uncomfortable with the whole situation. His eyes drifted towards the door and he longed to just get up and run off into the woods where things were less complicated.

"Fine, I'll just spit it out. I was wondering if you might like to take me out sometime."

His eyes jumped back to her, her words nearly knocking him on his ass, "What?"

"You heard me," she grinned, obviously more comfortable now that she had him on his toes.

He rocked back on his heels, letting her words sink in. His heart started pounding. This was another thing his brother had never prepared him for. What was the protocol here?

"Why?"

She didn't even have to think about it, "You're just so…different than all of the other guys I know. You're so sweet and sort of…I don't know…grateful. I like that. I like the way you look at me."

Her smile was so genuine and warm that he had to look away. It made him feel giddy all the way through to his bones. But that feeling cooled as he heard Merle's words, ringing loud in his ears.

_Tina ain't a nice girl._

"I, uh, I don't have any money," he mumbled.

She gasped, looking deeply offended, "I'm not a hooker!"

Daryl winced, "I-I didn't mean-"

She exhaled a nervous little laugh, "It's okay. I'm not worried about your money. I-I've just been thinking about you a lot since…you know."

His cheeks grew hot and he swallowed hard, his gaze falling on her tiny hands clenched in her lap. They looked soft, like little white flowers, and he found himself wondering what it might be like to hold one of those hands.

Just then, a rumbling groan tore loose from Merle's throat and he sat up slowly like someone rising from the dead. Daryl instinctively jumped to his feet, stepping out of the way as Merle swung his long legs off the couch and rubbed his red-rimmed eyes.

"Oh, fuck, little brother. Feel like shit."

Daryl glanced over at Tina and found her crossing her arms over her chest with a sour expression on her face. She looked she was expecting to catch hell. He thought he could see her pulse fluttering in her neck.

Just then, Merle's eyes caught on her as well and his face screwed up in a frown.

"What's this?" his eyes flicked to Daryl and then back to her, "What the fuck you doing here, woman?"

She swallowed hard, her voice a little shaky as she answered, "Came to see your brother."

"What you doing sniffing around my baby brother?" Merle asked her in a low voice, a darkness rolling across his eyes that Daryl knew meant trouble, "You already fucked him, you looking for a second round?"

Brows creased, she looked up at Daryl and he knew she was wondering why he'd lied to his brother about what happened between them. But she didn't mention it.

She looked back to Merle, "No, it's not like that. He-he's sweet…I thought-"

Merle was on his feet then, all traces of sleep gone. He looked like a rattlesnake poised to strike.

"Sweet, huh?" his voice was low and syrupy, "You telling me his dick's made out of candy or something?"

Daryl cringed. He could feel himself blushing all over, the heat radiating off his skin.

She wrinkled her nose up at Merle and he smirked as he continued, "Now tell me, what you messing with him for?"

Her shoulders hitched up ever so slightly and she looked away from Merle's intense scrutiny.

"You think I'm a fucking idiot, woman?" he purred in a voice eerily at odds with his words, cocking his head as he moved in a little closer, "You think I'm stupid?"

She mumbled something under her breath that Daryl couldn't quite make out but Merle ignored her.

"I know you're thinking he's an easy mark, being all sweet and innocent and shit," Merle paused, shooting a warning look in Daryl's direction, "But bitch, you're out of your fucking mind if you think I'm gonna let a skank like you get your hooks in my baby brother."

Daryl winced at the harshness of his brother's words, taking another step backwards until his back hit the wall. The woman looked shocked and hurt, and he was scared she was going to start crying. He knew she didn't deserve this but, to his shame, every time he opened his mouth to stop Merle nothing came out.

"Excuse me? I just wanted to-" she started but Merle cut her off.

He was shaking his head fiercely, "You best find you someone else to be your baby's daddy and make an honest woman out of you and all that shit. I'll be damned if I let you rope him into it."

"I'm not trying to rope him into anything!" she protested sharply, "I like him!"

Merle chuckled, a cruel gleam in his eyes, "Oh yeah? Just like your old friend Dana liked me, right? When she tried to say that baby of hers was mine, thinking she could pin me down for 18 years? I reckon we both remember how that turned out."

Daryl watched a ripple of fear cross the woman's face, making her lips tremble.

But then she looked over at him, eyes pleading, "Daryl, you need to stand up to him! I can tell you're better than this…just tell him to fuck off! You're a grown man. You don't have to let your brother tell you how to live!"

Daryl sucked in a sharp breath as her eyes burned into him, flooding him with shame, but then Merle stepped in between them and blocked her from Daryl's view. He focused instead on the muscles rippling down his brother's back. On the veins standing out from his brother's neck. On the swastikas etched into the skin over his brother's jutting shoulder blades.

"Bitch, you don't tell him what to do! Who the fuck do you think you are?" he roared in her face before turning to look at Daryl, pointing his finger at him accusingly, "And you, you fucking pussy! What the fuck is wrong with you? This bitch gives you a little bit of ass and what? You think you owe her something? You don't owe her shit, little brother. She's only good for one thing! She's a whore and that's all she'll ever be!"

She was on her feet suddenly, her face contorted with rage. Time seemed to slow down as she stepped up to Merle, completely unaware of the hand rising from his side. Daryl would have sworn time stopped altogether as Merle backhanded her hard, the vicious crack of skin on skin echoing through the tiny trailer.

Daryl's hands tensed uselessly, his fists clenching at his sides as he watched her go sprawling back into the chair. He moved to step forward, to help her, but one look from Merle was all it took to pin him in place. Feet frozen, he watched helplessly as her trembling fingers rose to touch the bloody split in her bottom lip. Tears filled her nice eyes, spilling down her cheeks unchecked.

The sight made his own eyes burn.

"You fucking bastard," she spat blood at Merle, her words filled with so much loathing and pain that it turned Daryl's stomach.

Her gaze shifted from Merle to Daryl unexpectedly and he swallowed hard, every muscle in his body tense and aching. He couldn't stand to meet her eyes, his own darting over her face warily before coming to rest on the floor. She just shook her head, pushing herself out of the chair unsteadily.

Without warning, Merle lunged towards her and she fell back again with a yelp, cowering away from his raised fists like a whipped dog. But he stopped short and bounced back on his heels, his unsettling laughter bouncing off the walls.

"Get the hell out of here, bitch," Merle finally said softly, taking a step back to allow her to make it to the door, "If I catch you sniffing around him again, I'll break your fucking neck."

Her eyes met Daryl's once more, shining with tears, as she stumbled through the doorway. And then she was gone.

Merle kicked the door shut behind her. The flimsy walls and windows rattled with the force of it. His eyes were still blazing as he turned to Daryl, drew back his fist, and cracked it across his brother's jaw. Daryl went down like a ton of bricks, slumping back against the wall. His hand was shaking as he raised it to his numb jaw, automatically checking to see if it was broken.

Merle bent down over him, his face so close that Daryl could feel his brother's hot, wet breath against his skin. He could see little red spots splattered across Merle's twisted features.

"You stay away from her, you hear me?" he reached out to tilt Daryl's chin up, his eyes probing as he ran gentle fingers over his brother's aching jaw, "You know I'm just looking out for you, baby brother. There's only one reason for her to be coming around here like that. She wants to lock you down, make you take care of her and her kids. That bitch ain't nothing but trouble. She'll ruin your life."

As Merle's footsteps drifted off down the hallway, Daryl could hear the Camaro start up outside. He dared to sneak a glance out the window and saw her jerking it into reverse, narrowly missing Merle's old bike. The tires protested shrilly as she threw it back into drive and hauled ass out of their yard, leaving behind nothing but the smell of flowers and her blood on their carpet.


	4. Chapter 4

**.:.** _Two weeks later _**.:.**

It was mid-day when Daryl stomped out of the woods and headed for home, his eyes heavy and his stomach rumbling. Felt like he hadn't eaten in days even though Merle had left him some fried chicken from KFC just the day before. He'd found it cold on top of the stove, wrapped up in greasy wax paper. It had surprised the hell out of him considering he hadn't talked to his brother in days.

Daryl had been halfway avoiding Merle for weeks. He was starting to see too much of their daddy behind Merle's cold, hard eyes and he didn't like it. Not one bit. It wasn't the Merle he remembered.

Fortunately, Billy Williamson had been hanging around a lot. He occupied a good bit of Merle's time which meant Daryl didn't have to.

Of course Daryl knew all about Billy. Knew he was the closest thing their little backwoods town would ever get to a drug kingpin. And he knew why Merle was up the guy's ass 24/7. It didn't bode well for Merle's parole but Daryl kept his mouth shut because Billy was alright by him.

Sure, he was a slimy bastard with a rebel flag tattooed on one arm and George Jones's face on the other but he'd gotten Daryl a job in his father-in-law's garage. Had him changing oil and charging little old ladies double for shitty brake jobs. It wasn't much of a job but it got him out of the house and that's just where he wanted to be lately.

It had its drawbacks though. Billy's pregnant wife, a blonde woman named Suzette, had taken to hanging around the garage whenever Daryl was working. She'd sit there watching him work for hours and she was always talking. Talking, talking, talking about nothing. She brought him lunch damn near every day too. The woman was always trying to feed him. And if she wasn't trying to feed him, she was trying to touch him. It was weird. He tried to keep as much distance as possible between his backside and her groping hands. He didn't need that shit.

Daryl hadn't seen or heard a thing out of Tina since Merle had kicked her out on her ass and he was starting to realize it was for the best. Merle had told him all about her and Billy had confirmed everything. Billy even told him that she'd tried the same thing with his little brother just a few weeks before and Daryl didn't figure he had any reason to lie about it.

Merle had berated himself endlessly for being the one to set them up. Said he "rued the day" he'd introduced them and swore he hadn't considered her reputation for clinging onto any man that would have her like a fucking kudzu vine. Said he'd never figured his weird-ass baby brother would hold her attention.

Daryl had a hard time understanding what the big fucking deal was, why his brother had been so bothered by the whole situation. Maybe it had something to do with all the cocaine floating around their house. Merle was a pit bull when he was coked up.

So when Daryl wasn't in the garage, he made sure he was in the woods. He was sick of watching his brother snort shit and even sicker of hearing him bitch.

As he stepped into their yard, he saw Merle on his ass in the dirt next to his old bike. He could hear him cussing; hear the clink of metal on metal as he fiddled with his wrench. He'd been trying and failing to get the Triumph running again and Daryl knew it was starting to piss him off.

He could see the moment his brother heard his footsteps. Merle tensed and turned to look for him. Daryl acknowledged him with a nod and headed for the steps, determined to find himself something to eat and avoid any conversation. But he saw Merle climb to his feet reluctantly and rub his dirty, greasy hands clean on his jeans.

"C'mere, little brother," Merle grunted, shading his eyes with his hand, "Need to talk to you."

Daryl stalked over with a heavy sigh, hitching his crossbow up on his shoulder.

Merle had a strange expression on his face. He was chewing his bottom lip, dropping his hand so he could stare up at the cloudless, indigo sky above them.

"Well?" Daryl pressed him impatiently, kicking at a rock with the toe of his boot.

"Guess I might as well just say it," Merle paused as his eyes found Daryl's again, "Cops found that Tina girl dead last night. Think she was murdered."

Daryl felt the shock of that statement force the air right out of his lungs. He tried to take a step back but Merle grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him.

"Now, I got some bad news," Merle told him brusquely, "I heard she'd been talking about you a lot around town, to her friends. And those dumb bitches all got big mouths so the cops are probably gonna come out to talk to you."

Merle's words hung heavy in the air between them as the shock continued to radiate through Daryl. He felt chilled to the bone even though the sun was warm on his back. Stupidly, he found himself wondering what she'd been saying about him and then quickly shook his head, trying to physically shake the thoughts away. She was dead now. Gone. It didn't matter.

Merle's tone was deadly serious, his fingers digging into Daryl's flesh as he continued, "You just got to keep your mouth shut, you hear me? Don't tell them a damn thing. I've already got you an alibi all worked out so you ain't got to worry."

"What you mean an alibi? I was out in the woods all night-"

"No, you were at home with me all day and all night," Merle cut him off, raising his brows, "Can't prove you was in the woods, can you? But you got witnesses that'll say they saw you at home. Billy's willing to tell them he was out here too if they ask."

"But why do I need to lie? I didn't do nothing!" Daryl protested helplessly, his skull suddenly throbbing like someone had taken a hammer to it.

"Think about it, boy. She was trash. You're trash. They don't give a fuck about truth or justice or any of that shit around here. They just want to get that fucking case closed so it's better to be safe than sorry, ain't it?"

Daryl knew he was right. He'd seen it happen before in their small town. It was always people just like them who couldn't afford a decent lawyer. People from the wrong side of the tracks who couldn't or wouldn't put up much of a fight. The cops wouldn't hesitate to throw his ass in jail and leave him to rot for something he never did. People like him and Merle were expendable.

His shoulders slumped, the crossbow tumbling to the ground with a thump as he fought to choke down the desperate sob that was suddenly clawing at his throat. Merle pulled him closer and he struggled against him, expecting another sock in the jaw. But Merle just wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him tight.

"Go ahead and cry if you gotta," Merle's voice was gruff but it reminded him of days gone by.

It had been a long time since Daryl had cried in front of his brother and in that moment, he remembered that night with startling clarity. He'd only been about six and Merle had been around 15, maybe 16. Their mother had still been alive then. Daryl remembered lying awake in bed all night, listening to her and his daddy fussing and fighting. They were always angry, always at each others throats.

He remembered the sound of glass breaking against the wall and then Merle stumbled into his bedroom, just in from a night out with his friends. His nose was broken, cocked to the side at a weird angle. Daryl remembered pointing it out to him and then watching as Merle very calmly reached up and shifted it back into place without even flinching.

Daryl remembered how it poured bright red blood all down Merle's face and onto the blue-striped sheets. Merle had climbed between them with him with a groan, throwing his heavy arm over Daryl's shivering body. He'd smelled like beer and some kind of funny, sweet smoke. Daryl nearly jumped out of his skin with every thud against the wall, every muffled scream, but Merle was there to tell him to just cover his ears and be quiet.

But then the door to Daryl's bedroom flew open, banging against the wall with a crack like a gunshot. Merle had been on his feet before their daddy reached the bed. Daryl remembered cowering under his sheets as he heard the sound of a scuffle, heard Merle saying "Not tonight, old man", and then he'd covered his ears with his pillow.

When he'd emerged, sobbing, he'd seen Merle standing over their father. Merle hadn't even looked up when he told him, "Shut up. Crying's for pussies."

They'd sent him away to juvie after that night. Without anyone there to protect Daryl, things had gotten worse and worse. But every night after, even when his daddy would carve him up good, he'd just bury his face in his pillow and repeat Merle's words over and over until the urge to cry disappeared.

But now he couldn't do it. He just let himself go, holding onto Merle like a drowning man clinging to a life raft as he imagined his future collapsing down to the size of a 6 by 8 cell.

"That ain't gonna happen, little brother. I ain't gonna let it, you hear me?" Merle told him softly, soothingly, close to his ear, "Ain't nobody gonna fuck with my little brother as long as I'm alive."

Merle let him cry like a pussy, soaking the shoulder of his t-shirt without saying another word.

When his tears dried up, Daryl's head felt so much clearer. His brain wasn't threatening to explode out of skull anymore and he could think again. He wiped the snot off his face with his sleeve, ducking his head to look up into his brother's dark eyes.

And he had to take a step backwards with the force of the memory that slammed headlong into his gut.

The sound of Merle's hand colliding with Tina's face. Her tears, her blood…

His jaw dropped, his chapped lips moving uselessly as the words stuck like fish bones in his throat. Now that the possibility was in his mind, he couldn't escape it. He had to know, couldn't live with himself if he didn't ask.

Merle's eyes narrowed ominously. Daryl could almost feel him in his head, probing around and seeing what he was thinking.

"You got something you want to ask me, boy?"

Daryl tried to wet his lips, his throat suddenly dry as sandpaper, "Did-did you…"

His voice gave out on him as his heartbeat roared in his ears.

Merle sniffed, his gaze boring right through Daryl, "You asking me if I killed her?"

Daryl pressed his lips together tight, unable to look his brother in the eye.

"What do you think?" Merle asked in a strange voice.

Hitching his shoulders up ever so slightly, Daryl tried to take a step back but Merle's grip tightened on his shoulders again.

Daryl could hear his brother's teeth grinding against each other in the silence and pictured them grating down into powder in Merle's mouth.

"Don't reckon it matters what I tell you then, does it? Looks like you've got your mind made up about your big brother," Merle's voice was tight as he reached out to smack Daryl's still-aching jaw to get his attention, "You just keep your mouth shut like I told you, you hear me?"

His voice softened as he continued, "You know ol' Merle's gonna take care of your sorry ass. Always have."

Merle clapped him on the shoulder roughly as he released him. Without another word he turned and walked away, the white mid-day sun beating down on his shoulders.

Daryl watched his brother disappear into the hazy distance and wondered if Merle really was his alibi or if he was Merle's.


	5. Chapter 5

"Uh, Daryl sweetie?"

Daryl ducked out from under the Chevy he was working on to see Suzette standing in the open doorway, rubbing her bulging belly anxiously.

"Cops are here to talk to you."

He nodded and dropped his wrench back into his toolbox. He'd known this was coming; laid awake all night dreading it. Merle had never come home the night before and he'd been plagued with guilt.

He didn't even know whether Merle had done anything or not and he'd acted like his brother was some kind of monster. He knew it wasn't much of a stretch to think Merle might have lost his temper and killed somebody, accidentally or not. But Merle would never have acted the way Daryl had if the situation was reversed. Hell, if the shoe was on the other foot, he knew Merle would have helped him dispose of the body and clean up the place.

And that was what confused him. As he'd laid there staring up at the ceiling, he'd been wondering…did it even matter? Even if it _was_ Merle who had killed Tina, would it change anything between them? He couldn't pretend it would. He couldn't pretend that he'd turn his back on Merle even if he had murdered the girl. He knew deep down he'd protect him even if the thought of what might have happened made him sick.

Even though they'd had a lot of bad times, Merle had always been there for him. Even when he wasn't actually there, when he was stuck in juvie, his words had gotten Daryl through all the shit their daddy had done to him. He just wished it didn't have to be this way. Even though he'd made up his mind to protect his big brother, he was still pissed at Merle for getting them into this situation in the first place.

Suzette was waving for him to follow her. He took a deep breath, his legs like lead as he trailed behind her to the reception area. Through the cloudy windows he could see two men, heads bent in conversation, clutching Styrofoam cups of coffee. He felt like a dead man walking.

Daryl grabbed the doorknob but Suzette reached out to stop him, her hand on his arm. As soon as her cold fingers touched his skin, he jerked away as if he'd been burned. In that moment, he felt the overwhelming urge to smack her right across the face. His fingers itched to unleash some of the anger, fear, and frustration that was steadily building inside him. But, fuck, he'd never been like that and he wasn't about to start now. So he just cursed under his breath and squeezed the doorknob until the metal bit into his skin.

She was completely oblivious to his inner torment, "Is everything alright? You in some kinda trouble, sweetie?"

He shrugged and brushed her aside, throwing the door open so hard it almost flew off its hinges.

The cops led him to the tiny employee break room. It stank of reheated spaghetti and that gross cheese that smelled like feet. Made him feel kind of sick.

They pulled up chairs on one side of the wobbly plastic table and motioned for him to sit on the other. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead as they introduced themselves. He just picked at the dirt under his thumbnail, nodding a brief hello.

"Well, let's get right down to it, Mr. Dixon. How did you know Ms. Dawson?"

"Who?"

"Tina Dawson?"

"Oh. Uh, my brother introduced me to her," Daryl gnawed at his fingernail anxiously.

"When did you last see Ms. Dawson?" the officer squinted across the table at him.

"About two weeks ago I reckon."

"And did she exhibit any strange behavior at that time? Anything that was out of character for her?"

Daryl shrugged, "Don't know. I mean, I was only with her the one time…didn't know her very well."

"Oh," the investigator looked surprised, glancing down at his notes and then up at Daryl again, "Her friends were under the impression that you two were seeing each other."

Daryl shook his head, "No, just the once."

"Hmm," the investigator stroked his mustache, peering at Daryl uncertainly, "Well, do you think Ms. Dawson was interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with you?"

"Don't know."

"Were you interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with her?"

Daryl thought of how soft her small hands had looked, how soft her mouth had been, and shook his head quickly.

"Did you know her ex-husband, Charles Connor? The father of her children?"

Daryl shook his head, "Nope."

He'd heard the name but he couldn't place the guy. Knew nothing about him. Didn't even know she'd been married before.

"She ever mention him to you? Anything about him or any other men she might have been seeing?"

"Nope."

"Ever mention anyone she might be afraid of?"

He shook his head again.

The investigator paused for a moment, shuffling his papers before he continued, "We've gotten the impression from some of Ms. Dawson's friends that she was perhaps a bit…unstable. Would you agree with that based on her behavior?"

Daryl shrugged again, focused on trying to slide one of his fingernails under his thumbnail to dig out the elusive black specks trapped underneath.

"Got something under your nails, Mr. Dixon?" the investigator's voice was suddenly sharp.

Daryl looked up in time to see the man's hand shoot across the table to grab at his wrist. He instinctively pulled away, wincing as tight fingers dug into his flesh. The investigator forced his palm flat on the table and leaned over to inspect his nails.

"It's just dirt and grease," Daryl grunted, embarrassed to see his fingers trembling a little on the table.

The officer pointed at the angry-looking scratch running down towards his wrist and the investigator nodded sagely before asking, "And this scratch? How did you get that, Mr. Dixon?"

Daryl shrugged, "Don't know, probably while I was working."

"You don't wear gloves?"

"Gloves are for pussies," he sneered, itching to just yank his hand back.

The man finally released him and the officer leaned over, eyes on Daryl as he whispered in the investigator's ear, "Looks like a dead end."

Daryl swallowed hard, flexing his fingers absently as he tucked his hands safely away in his lap.

The investigator heaved a long-suffering sigh, "Mr. Dixon, where were you the night Ms. Dawson was murdered?"

"At home. With my brother," he answered automatically.

"Of course. Anyone else?"

"Uh…Billy Williamson?" he said but it sounded more like a question even to his ears.

He could see from the investigator's expression that he knew the name and knew it well.

"Your brother is Merle Dixon, right?" the investigator leaned back in his chair, fixing Daryl with an odd look, "We've heard that he and Ms. Dawson may have had some sort of disagreement in the weeks before her death. Can you tell us anything about that?"

"Don't know," Daryl shrugged, "Guess you'd have to ask Merle."

The investigator narrowed his eyes, "We intend to."

He nodded once then looked away quickly.

He heard another heavy sigh, "Mr. Dixon, do you know anyone who might have a reason to want Ms. Dawson dead?"

He thought of Merle and mentally kicked himself as he replied, "Nope."

They didn't say anything more and he cleared his throat, half rising out of his chair before he thought to ask them, "Can I…"

"You're free to go, Mr. Dixon. Just don't go far," the investigator told him, looking suddenly exhausted as he propped his elbows up on the table and rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

Daryl stood up straight, rolling his shoulders to release some of the nervous tension that had stiffened them. The investigator was staring down at his papers as if he half-expected something important to jump out and bite him on the nose.

Daryl took a step away from the table then hesitated, turning to look back at the two men who hadn't budged an inch.

The investigator glanced up at him, "You got something to add, Mr. Dixon?"

Daryl chewed his bottom lip anxiously, ready to bolt, but he heard himself ask, "What-uh, what happened to her?"

The investigator's eyes were steady on Daryl as he answered quietly, "She took a pretty bad beating. Wasn't a pretty sight."

Merle's final threat popped into his head and the words were rolling off his tongue before he could clamp his lips shut, "Her-her neck?"

The investigator leaned forward on the table, eyes narrowing to slits, and Daryl knew he'd probably just shot himself in the foot.

"Why do you ask?"

* * *

Daryl stood in the middle of the empty living room, almost vibrating with nervous energy.

He should have just stayed his ass at work. He had left right after the cops had gone, unable to stand anymore of Suzette's sympathetic glances or hesitant questions. He just couldn't take it, had to get the hell out of there. But now that he was home he just didn't know what to do with himself.

He'd half-expected the cops to haul his ass off to jail after he'd asked that stupid fucking question but they hadn't. He could only pray that they wouldn't be dropping by for another friendly visit.

Daryl paced in front of the window. He'd expected Merle to be home. He'd figured on warning him about the cops. Thought they could go out and poach a deer. Let off some steam. It always worked when they were younger. They'd have a fight, Merle would blacken his eye, and then later he'd take him hunting. It was their way of clearing the air.

Daryl kicked the coffee table in frustration as the quivering, anxious feeling in his chest grew stronger and spread out through his limbs.

The woods were too peaceful; he didn't feel like walking alone in the silence right now. He needed to do something with his hands, something to keep his mind occupied before he lost it.

Outside the open blinds, the sunlight glinted off the chrome handlebars of Merle's broken Triumph.

* * *

Daryl was making progress on the bike, covered up to his elbows in grease and dirt, when the sound of a truck hauling ass up the road made him pause.

He peered up over the bike to see Billy's jacked-up pickup fishtailing around the curve, blaring Molly Hatchet loud enough to wake the dead.

As the truck whipped up into the yard, Daryl could see it was Merle behind the wheel. He could also just make out a girl in the passenger seat. Well, that explained all the showing off.

He was pretty sure he recognized her. She had been a few years ahead of him in school back when he actually went. Rachel or Raquel or something. She was a redhead with the biggest tits he'd ever seen. They bounced like a bowl of Jell-O with every step she took.

They jiggled obscenely even now as she jumped down out of the truck, tugging her denim skirt down as it rode up her pale thighs. Daryl blushed and looked away quickly, forcing his eyes back to the bike.

He was only half paying attention to what he was doing as he listened to Merle climb down out of the truck and slam the door behind him. His footsteps were heavy, dragging across the grass as he stopped close enough for Daryl to smell the stale smoke on his clothes.

He heard a soft smack followed by a breathy squeal and could only assume that Merle had slapped Rachel/Raquel's ass.

"Go on inside, woman. I'll be in to take care of you in just a second."

They were both silent until the door clicked shut behind her.

"Heard you got a visit from the boys in blue this morning," Merle said after a moment.

Daryl didn't look up from the bike, just grunted noncommittally.

"Suzette called to tell Billy about it. She sounded pretty worried about you," Merle paused but Daryl still refused to turn around, "You getting a little piece of that, Darlena?"

Daryl's shoulders tensed as he gripped the wrench a little tighter.

He heard Merle chuckle behind him, his footsteps heading up the stairs.

Daryl finally turned around.

"They was asking about you too, Merle."

Merle paused and, after a moment, he turned around to face him. There was a little smile on his lips like he didn't have a care in the world but Daryl could see bitterness in his eyes.

"Yeah? So did you tell 'em I killed her?"

Their eyes met, clashing, battling across the few feet between them. Daryl was trying to figure his brother out, knowing all the while that Merle already knew everything he didn't.

Daryl finally shook his head, his voice trembling a little as he said, "No. Told them you and me and Billy was here all night. They still wanna talk to you though."

Merle studied him for a moment before a tension Daryl hadn't even noticed seem to melt away from his features. He stepped off the stairs and stomped across the grass, squatting down by his brother to ruffle Daryl's hair playfully like he did when Daryl was a kid.

"You did good, little brother. You did good."

Daryl swallowed hard, too conflicted inside to reply. He just dipped his head and turned back to the bike.


	6. Chapter 6

"So now he's working with some guys in Atlanta. I'm telling you, it's the big time, baby brother."

Daryl was barely paying attention to Merle, more focused on staring out the window at the world whipping by outside the speeding pickup. The sun was sinking below the tree line, staining the sky orange and pink.

Rachel or Raquel or whatever her name was squirming next to him, trying to snuggle up to Merle's arm every time he reached over between her knees to shift gears. His brother flashed a crooked smile at the girl and Daryl flattened himself against the passenger door, trying to avoid the uncomfortable, unfamiliar warmth of her right side pressed against his left.

And Merle was still talking.

"So it wouldn't be much work on our end. Just keep the shit alive and keep the people and the deer away from it. I reckon you can handle that since you spend all your time fucking around in the woods anyway," Merle cackled, reaching around the girl to shove at his brother's shoulder, "Can't plant until spring though so until then he wants us to do runs and pickups and shit for him."

Daryl finally caught on to what his brother was saying, "Wait, what? What the fuck are you talking about, Merle?"

"Goddamnit, Darlena, ain't you been listening?" his brother reached around the girl again to smack Daryl hard on the back of the head, "You think I'm over here yapping my jaw off for shits and giggles?"

Daryl just shrugged and Merle continued, "I'm talking about us going into business with Billy. Can you follow that, dumbass?"

Daryl nodded uncertainly as the girl between them giggled.

Merle fixed her with a cold stare, "What the fuck you giggling at, carrot top?"

"I always thought he was a little slow," she snickered, looking over at Daryl.

Up close he could see a smattering of freckles all over her face. Her lips looked shiny and gooey, like the snotty trail left behind by a snail.

Daryl felt a twinge of embarrassment at her words. It was quickly replaced by anger as heat flared in his cheeks, fists clenching at his sides. She was right and it pissed him off.

His teacher in second grade had said the same thing. Sent a note home to his parents and everything but his daddy had just tossed it in the trash and took a belt to Daryl's back for not paying attention in class. How the fuck was he supposed to pay attention when he could barely sleep at night and his back was too sore and bloodied to sit still in a hard wooden desk?

The pickup's tires protested sharply as Merle slammed on the brakes.

"You don't know shit 'cept how to suck a dick," his brother said softly, his voice menacingly low, "How the fuck are you gonna call my baby brother slow?"

She shrank away, back bumping into Daryl's arm as she stammered, "I-I didn't mean-"

"Yeah, yeah," Merle cut her off impatiently, nodding towards the house they were stopped in front of, "This is you, ain't it? Let the girl out, Daryl."

Daryl started awkwardly, fumbled with the door handle and then slid out of the truck, stepping aside so she could jump down. Little plumes of dust drifted out from under her boots as they hit the dirt.

"I guess you ain't gonna walk me to the door," she sighed, standing up on her tip-toes to look across the seat at Merle.

He just snorted. She rolled her eyes, ignoring Daryl as she spun around and marched up to the house by herself.

They didn't wait around to see if she made it in alright. As soon as Daryl climbed back in and slammed the door closed, Merle hit the gas. They took off with a roar, headed for Billy's house. Merle cleared his throat and continued as if nothing had happened.

"So, like I was saying…"

* * *

"I hear you're a hell of a shot. Your brother tells me you never miss with that bow of yours," Billy said with interest.

Daryl shrugged as Merle clapped him on the shoulder proudly. They were standing in Billy's dimly lit den and the man himself was sitting behind a desk like he was the fucking Godfather, drinking a beer.

"Guess not. Well, 'cept when I'm drunk."

Billy snorted but his gaze was still intense as he said, "You that good with a gun?"

"Reckon so."

Billy seemed to ponder that for a moment, stroking his chin absently, "Skill like that is wasted tending crops."

The man stood up slowly, stepping around the desk to stand toe-to-toe with Daryl.

Daryl shifted his weight uncomfortably, staring down at Billy and trying to ignore the urge to flinch away as the man looked him in the eye. It was like squaring off with a wild animal. He knew better than to show fear even as Billy's wet, boozy breath drifted across his face.

"I could really put you to work if you got the balls for it."

Daryl wasn't sure he wanted to know why somebody like Billy would need a sharpshooter. Right on cue, the man bared his teeth in a feral smile.

The silence hung thick like smoke between them as Daryl glanced at Merle. His brother was watching them with an unreadable expression, fists clenched at his sides. Daryl turned back to Billy and scratched at the back of his neck where his skin was tingling.

"I reckon I'm kinda busy at the garage right now."

Billy frowned, tilting his chin up defiantly, "Shit, man! I'm talking big money here. Serious money. You could make more working for me for a month than you could make in a year at the garage. You know my pa-in-law is a cheap sumbitch."

Daryl chewed his lip, looking over at Merle again. His brother nodded ever-so-slightly at him.

He had to admit, Billy's offer sounded good. He could only imagine what he… no, what they could do with that kind of money. They could get the hell out of their shitty town for a start. Get a nicer place with electricity. New trucks. Go on hunting trips to Montana. Afford decent lawyers when Merle inevitably fucked it all up.

Hell, he guessed he'd probably need his own lawyers if he went to work for Billy. Seemed like the Dixon men were cursed when it came to the lawman, from their grandpa on down.

That was all that was holding him back if he was honest. Daryl didn't like to think about prison. He feared it. The idea of being locked up in a cage like an animal at the mercy of a bunch of fucking assholes made his chest feel tight. He was pretty sure he'd rather be dead than locked up. He couldn't understand how Merle handled it.

"It's just…we got a lot of heat on us right now, you know?" Daryl offered hesitantly.

Billy nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes, "Oh, yeah. The Tina thing."

Daryl nodded, biting down on his already ragged, chewed up thumbnail.

"Well, let's just say you ain't got to worry too much about the cops around here," Billy grinned, winking over at Merle, "I take good care of them."

Daryl squinted at Billy apprehensively, a little taken aback by the implications of that statement.

"I-I don't-" Daryl stammered, jumping as he felt his brother's hand land heavily on his shoulder.

"Let me talk to him," Merle told Billy, sounding annoyingly confident.

Billy nodded, leaning on the edge of the desk and tipping back his beer as Merle drug Daryl into the far corner of the room. Daryl bumped his head on a dusty deer head mounted on the wall as Merle practically shoved him against it.

"Look," Merle's tone turned serious as soon as they were out of earshot, "We owe him."

"I just-I got a bad feeling about it, Merle," Daryl whispered, "You remember what happened to Grandpa."

Something in his gut was telling him this was a bad idea and he usually trusted his gut. Their grandfather on their father's side had been a bootlegger. He'd made moonshine out in the woods, hauling sacks of corn and sugar for miles out to his still by the river. When he had the finished product in hand, a crystal clear alcohol that could put any man on his ass, he'd load jugs of it into the trunk of his old black Ford. The local cops were never able to catch him; he tore up and down the back roads like a maniac with his headlights off.

Their daddy always told them that Merle looked just like their Grandpa, acted like him too, but they'd never known the man. He'd gotten shot down by revenuers in front of his wife and son when their daddy was only 10.

"This ain't like running whiskey, Darlena," Merle scoffed, looking over his shoulder at Billy before whispering right up close to Daryl's ear, "When we get the connections, the know-how…we'll cut his ass loose and do it our own damn selves. Just me and you."

That was Merle. Always scheming.

Just then, the door swung open and Suzette stepped into the room in a fuzzy pink robe.

"Billy! Scout dug out under the fence again!" she whined before letting out a little squeak of surprise when she saw the other men in the room, "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't realize you had company!"

Her eyes roamed over Merle before landing on Daryl and he swallowed hard as he saw them widen, saw her smile brighten. He ducked his head in acknowledgement, all too aware of Billy standing just across the room.

Her hands fluttered over her hair and then the loose belt of her robe as she practically purred, "Well, Daryl, what are you doing here, honey?"

He bit his tongue, sneaking a glance at Billy to see his eye twitching. That didn't seem like a good sign. Daryl just shrugged, averting his eyes.

Billy answered for him, "They're just here to talk some business, Suzette. Don't worry about it."

She frowned, looking at Daryl with clear disapproval. Obviously she knew what kind of business her husband was in. That kind of surprised him, he would have thought Billy would keep it quiet.

"Well, enough of all that," she waved her hand dismissively, her tone leaving no room for discussion, "I bet you boys are starving. Come on and let me fix y'all a plate, I got lots of leftovers from dinner."

Daryl groaned inwardly at the thought of having to sit down to eat with Suzette and her husband. He stiffened as her hand suddenly, subtly brushed against his forearm.

"Uh, we should probably be getting home," he said quickly, looking to Merle for help.

Merle was watching the two of them closely, his eyes fixed on Suzette's hand where it lingered on Daryl's arm. He was obviously all too aware of his brother's discomfort.

"Aw, come on, Darlena. Suzette's famous for her cooking," Merle finally said, lips twitching as he fought a smile, "Go on and fix us a plate, darlin'."

* * *

"Here you go, honey."

Suzette placed a heaping plate of food, warm from the microwave, on the table in front of him. Fried backstrap, mashed potatoes, and a biscuit that sounded like it was made of concrete when she dropped it on the plate.

It didn't smell too good and it looked even worse but Merle was already digging in with feigned enthusiasm. Daryl took a sip of sweet tea, trying to prolong the inevitable as Suzette sat down right across from him, next to Billy, and flashed him an eager smile.

Looking away quickly, he scooped up a forkful of the mashed potatoes and shoved it into his mouth. He could hear Merle gnawing at the backstrap like it was jerky. Billy and Suzette sat across the table, watching him expectantly for completely different reasons.

The potatoes were thick, dry, and undercooked. It was like rolling a clod of dirt around on his tongue. He forced himself to swallow them down, trying his best not to gag. He'd never been too picky; he would have starved to death years ago if he was. Hell, he ate meat raw when he didn't have any other choice. But this shit was something else. He was suddenly incredibly grateful that she always brought him fast food for lunch.

He looked back at the still-full plate with dread. The ticking of the clock on the wall was almost deafening.

"How is everything, Daryl?" Suzette asked, smiling brightly.

Billy sat back in his seat, popping the tab on another beer with a small, knowing smirk on his face.

Though it turned his stomach, he shoved another forkful between his lips and nodded at her.

God damn, no wonder Billy was always eating out.

He'd just sawed off a piece of backstrap and was chewing it bravely when he felt a foot bumping into his. When tiny, cold, naked toes slipped underneath the leg of his pants and trailed up his shin, he sucked in a startled breath and then he was choking.

Merle slapped him on the back roughly and Daryl hacked the barely-chewed chunk of meat into his hand. The couple across the table was staring at him, Suzette with alarm and Billy with amusement.

Merle sat back and wiped the grease off his mouth with his sleeve as Daryl squirmed, wondering how far he could get out the door before his brother dragged him back inside. He searched the table for a napkin, the chunk of meat heavy and wet and disgusting on his palm.

"Good stuff ain't it, boy?" his brother said with a sly grin, his gaze moving from Daryl to the woman who was now hovering at his side, "I think he's gonna want another helping, Suzette."


	7. Chapter 7

The pickup roared down the highway outside Atlanta, racing straight into a blood-red sunset.

Daryl was trying to calm his nerves, alternating between fidgeting with his fingernails and staring out the window at the other drivers drifting by. He and Merle were headed to some house just outside the city to do a pick up for Billy, their first job for him, and Daryl would have rather been anywhere else.

Merle had poked and prodded and badgered him about it until he'd finally given in just to get his brother off his back but he had a bad feeling about it. He could still feel the heat on him from the whole Tina situation and it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Billy asked me if I thought you might be fucking his wife," Merle said out of the blue, picking at his teeth with a toothpick.

He kept his eyes on the road but Daryl could see the sly smile curling at his brother's lips.

Daryl scoffed and resumed chewing his thumbnail, biting at the ragged skin until it bled.

"I told him no way," Merle continued as he swerved into the right lane and nearly clipped a semi, "Told him my little brother don't seem to be much interested in fucking anybody, much less a nice lady like Suzette."

"You think she's a nice lady?" Daryl asked around his thumb, cocking his head to eye his brother.

Merle shrugged, "Yeah. Reckon so."

The two of them fell silent, the tires humming on the highway the only sound in the cab of the truck.

"Don't know why she's got her sights set on you," Merle muttered after a while.

Daryl snorted as his brother slowed down and turned off the highway. Night was falling and the streetlights flickered on ahead of them as they crept down the ever-narrowing streets. Daryl sat up straighter when he noticed the people gathered in loose knots on the street corners and loitering in most of the yards. They were all watching them, eyeing the pickup with suspicion.

After a little confusion and a lot of cussing they finally rolled to a stop in front of a nondescript yellow house on a dead-end street. Merle put the truck in park and they both stared up at the house uncertainly.

Almost immediately, four figures spilled out of the house and onto the porch. Daryl froze when they stepped out of the shadows.

"Aw fuck."

* * *

"I think since Billy was stupid enough to send you two assholes, I'm going to charge double. For my pain and suffering, you know? That sound alright to you, hillbilly?"

"Well hell, you wanna talk about suffering? What about my suffering, standing around in this fucking taco hut? How about this…we'll pay you half and I won't kick your teeth in?"

"That ain't how shit works around here, cracker. I make the rules. Double or nothing."

"If you think I'm gonna bow down to a bunch of fucking spics, you got another thing coming. It's my way or the fucking highway, _amigo_."

Daryl cringed as heat flooded out across his face and down his neck. He knew where this was going and it wasn't anywhere good. In that moment, he wished he had the balls to kick his brother right in the teeth and then drag him out of there. They were outnumbered two to one but Merle had been itching for a fight ever since he realized they'd be dealing with Mexicans.

And then, without another word, the room exploded.

Merle elbowed the man behind him square in the face then spun around, quick as lightning, and caught the man he'd been talking to with a jab to the chin. They both stumbled back, caught off guard, and Merle pounced. Daryl knew his brother was in his element, moving like a predator and disarming them before they could even reach for the guns in their waistbands.

A stubby man with a goatee spun on Daryl, arm lifted to aim his gun, and on instinct Daryl threw his body forward. He drove his shoulder into the man's gut and took him down to the floor hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs. The man struggled, gasping for air, but managed to bring the butt of his gun down against Daryl's bad eye.

Daryl saw stars, his head spinning violently as the pain coursed through his body and radiated right down to his toes.

Through the hazy blackness clouding his brain, he suddenly remembered the night his father had busted up that very eye socket.

It was Christmas Eve. It had been cold as a witch's tit for weeks and everybody was saying it was going to snow for Christmas.

Daryl didn't know how it started; he was asleep when the first blow came. He'd probably been dreaming of a normal Christmas in a normal home with an actual Christmas tree and presents to open.

All he remembered was the shouting, the blood and the pain. Awful, crushing pain. He must have passed out because he remembered waking up safe in Merle's arms. It was so cold, so damn cold, and he hadn't been wearing any shoes. He'd only been wearing his pajama bottoms that he'd nearly grown out of. His skinny ankles were peeking out of them.

Merle was carrying him, cradling him to his chest like Daryl was a baby. His vision was so blurry that he was barely able to see Merle's face but could feel his brother shivering. He could also feel the little icy snowflakes that had drifted down out of the dark sky, melting immediately upon touching their skin, as Merle had carried him seven miles to the hospital.

The memory faded abruptly and Daryl's head cleared just in time to see the man trying to turn the gun around on him.

Daryl snarled, gripping the man's wrist until his fingernails dug into the flesh, and knocked the gun loose from his hand. It skittered across the floor, sliding just out of reach. Daryl raised his own weapon and cracked it against the man's skull once, twice, three times until he felt his body go limp beneath him, blood pouring from the split skin.

He scrambled to his feet then, eyes immediately searching out his brother, and found Merle still holding his own across the room. He was bobbing and weaving, ducking punches and landing solid right hooks with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Daryl realized with a start that he could only see three guys. He knew there had been four.

And right on cue Daryl felt a tingling start at the back of his neck. He froze immediately, not even daring to breathe, and could just make out the sound of someone trying to sneak up behind him. The person was holding their breath as well, moving slowly and almost silently, but the slight cracking of their shifting joints gave them away.

Daryl spun around, finger on the trigger, and found himself staring straight down the barrel of a .45.

The gun quivered and he forced himself to look beyond it and into the eyes of the man pointing it at him. He was young, probably about Daryl's age, but covered in tattoos. His dark eyes were trained on the gun Daryl had automatically aimed at his forehead.

There was a crash somewhere behind them, wood splintering and muffled grunts of pain, but neither looked away.

"Drop the gun, _chingado_," the man hissed, stretching his own a little closer to Daryl's forehead.

Daryl could see the beads of sweat popping out across the man's brow, could almost smell the fear wafting off of him. His own heart was pounding violently but he forced himself to keep his face neutral and his hand steady. He couldn't show fear. Couldn't show weakness. No sudden movements.

The man spat out some more rapid words in Spanish, sounding more and more desperate with every second that ticked by, but Daryl wasn't listening. A familiar figure crept into Daryl's peripheral vision, slinking up close behind the man. Daryl fought to keep his eyes from drifting towards the movement, feeling the sweat dripping down his face.

The cold metal of the .45 dug into his forehead suddenly as the man took a step closer. He could see the man's lips moving, could see the growing, frantic anger in his eyes but he couldn't hear a damn thing.

And then it all happened so quickly. An arm shot out around the man's neck and wrenched him backwards suddenly. Daryl lunged out of the way as the man's finger automatically squeezed the trigger, sending a bullet tearing into the wall.

The sound of the gun firing was deafening in the small, closed room.

The man's gun clattered to the floor just a foot away from Daryl. And then a body slumped down beside it, dark eyes staring blankly in his direction.

For a moment he could only stare at the unblinking eyes in shock.

But then he scrambled away, climbing quickly to his feet. He tore his gaze away from the body on the floor, from the dark blood pooling around its head, and met his brother's eyes.

"Jesus Christ, Merle!"

The voice tearing from his throat didn't sound like his own and he realized he was trembling.

Merle looked pretty damn shocked himself. He looked down at his empty hands with an odd expression.

Daryl didn't know what the hell to do. He thought of the gunshot, of the neighborhood they were in. He knew one of the other men could come around at any time. One of their friends could come to investigate all the noise. Goddamnit, the whole damn neighborhood could come pouring in, wasn't nothing stopping them. They could have a whole heap of trouble on their hands at any moment.

"We gotta get the fuck outta here!" Daryl told Merle desperately, stepping carefully around the growing pool of blood to yank on his brother's arm.

Merle shrugged him off and rolled the body over with his foot, as casually as if it was a discarded beer can. Daryl watched in horror as his brother stooped over and pulled his knife out of the base of the man's skull with a wet, squelching sound. Merle calmly wiped it clean on the man's white t-shirt, the vicious blade catching the light, and then put it away as he stood up straight.

"Let's go, little brother."

* * *

Miraculously, they made it to the truck without incident. Merle threw it in reverse, backing out of the dead-end street like a bat out of hell.

They didn't speak until they were back on the highway leading home. When the highway straightened out, Merle steered with his knees, freeing his hands to dig around for something in his pockets. When Daryl heard him snorting, he wanted to knock the shit right out of his brother's hand.

"Fuck, what are we going to do?" he murmured after a moment, "You…that guy was dead, Merle."

"What, you got a soft spot for goddamn taco benders now, Darlena?" Merle was trying to sound calm but Daryl thought he could hear a little fear in his brother's voice and it scared the shit out of him.

"Didn't have no choice. He was twitchy, you saw him. A few more seconds and that motherfucker woulda blown your fucking brains out," Merle growled, gripping the steering wheel like he was trying to choke it, "Is that what you wanted?"

Daryl shook his head but it was still eating at him, "What about the other ones? They could identify us or something, Merle!"

Merle suddenly looked furious, slamming his fist down on the wheel, "I saved your sorry ass and this is what I get? You're fucking useless, you know that? I shoulda known you couldn't handle this, Darlena. Fuck, I swear you got shit for brains."

Daryl chewed his lip, staring out the window and into the darkness as his brother's words sank in. He suddenly felt like he was six years old again.

"Goddamnit, Daryl, you just ain't thinking. People like them don't go to the cops. What the fuck are they gonna say? That it was a drug deal gone wrong? I bet they all got records as long as you are tall. Jesus Christ, use your goddamn brain."

He let Merle rant, pressing his forehead against the cold glass of the window. It felt good against his overheated, sweaty skin. He closed his eyes.

"I ain't doing that again, Merle."

His voice was quiet but he knew his brother heard him.

Merle didn't reply, just grumbled under his breath until they rolled up in front of Billy's house.

Merle laid down on the horn and then threw the door open, jogging across the yard. Billy met him at the front steps.

The nervous, jittery feeling seemed to evaporate like sweat off Daryl's skin, leaving him exhausted and disgusted with everything, with all the shit Merle had gotten him into. He pushed the door open with his foot but stayed in the truck, his muscles weak from the adrenaline comedown.

Voices carried across the yard and Daryl leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes again as the cool night air drifted over him.

"Fucking spics jumped us, Billy! Tried to kill us!"

"Jesus, what did you do? Did you get the shit?"

"No, man, listen to me! They fucking jumped us…shot at us! We had to take one out just to get away!"

"Shit, man, that's my main source! What the fuck am I supposed to do now?"

They argued on, their voices mixing and fading into white noise, like static on the radio.

Daryl finally found the energy to slide down out of the truck, every bone in his body aching as he landed hard on his feet on the unforgiving ground.

As he crossed the yard and headed for the highway he thought he could hear someone yelling his name. But he didn't turn back. He didn't care if it took him all night, he was walking home and he was doing it alone.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: This is the penultimate chapter. The next one will be pretty long and it will be the last. Thanks so much for the reviews. I really appreciate all of your feedback and I'm glad you've enjoyed the story! xx**

* * *

"Hey, are you okay?"

Daryl jumped in surprise at the unexpected voice right behind him, smacking his head on the hood he was busy working under. He cursed under his breath, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his skull as he turned around to see Suzette looking concerned.

"What?" he grumbled, digging his grease rag out of his back pocket.

She was wringing her hands, biting her lip, "I-I heard your brother the other night. He was telling Billy what happened and I was just wondering if you were okay?"

"Fine," Daryl answered flatly.

She was quiet as he bent to pick up the wrench he'd dropped. When she didn't speak up again, he ducked back under the hood to continue his work.

"You know, you should get out of it while you still can."

He felt like kicking the old Aerostar. Or maybe drenching it in gasoline and setting it on fire.

"What?"

"You should get out. You're too good for that kind of business, Daryl," she said softly, looking like she might cry as he turned around to face her again, "You're not like Billy and Merle."

He squinted at her, "What you mean? Merle's my brother. I'm just like him."

She shook her head vehemently, "No, no you're not. I know you love him but…he's no good, Daryl and he's gonna drag you down with him."

He squeezed the grease rag tight in his hand, painfully uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was headed in as he muttered, "If he ain't no good, I ain't no good either."

She took a step forward, extending her hand towards him, and he took a step backwards, his cheeks burning.

Her fingers curled back into her palm and then dropped uselessly at her side.

"No, listen to me, Daryl. I know you think you're like him and I know you think you need him, but that's not how it is. He's the one that needs you, don't you see that?"

She took another step forward, backing him up against the front of the Aerostar. He suddenly felt cornered, trapped by her pleading eyes. Anger and confusion battled inside him, clawing up through his chest.

As usual, anger won out.

"What the fuck do you know about it, huh? You don't know shit about us!" he exploded, slamming the wrench into the floor just beside her feet with all the force he could muster.

The sound of metal crashing against concrete echoed through the garage. She didn't even flinch, lifting her chin to stare him down.

"I've seen it happen, Daryl," she pressed her lips together tight as if steeling herself before she added, "Billy was sweet once too, believe it or not. Back when we first started dating…before he started working with _his_ big brother."

She let her words hang in the air, staring at him expectantly as if they should be meaningful. As if they should change something.

Heart pounding, he spat out, "Why the fuck do you even care?"

She stared at him for a long moment then shook her head sadly. He saw her throat tighten as she swallowed hard.

"Because, sweetie, I like you. I know you've noticed…I haven't exactly been subtle," she smiled weakly, looking a little ashamed, "You're the first good man I've met in a long time and I just...I don't want to see you ruined like all the rest of them."

Her words sank into his brain, stinging and prickling, and suddenly it was all too much. She didn't know what the hell she was talking about. He was already sick and fucking tired of women sticking their noses in where they didn't belong. Why did they care? Didn't they have anything better to worry about than his sorry ass? It was him and Merle, that's all it had ever been. All it would ever be.

He turned away from her, ducking back under the hood as he muttered just loud enough for her to hear, "Mind your own goddamn business."

He stared down at the twisted mass of metal without really seeing it, thinking the garage seemed eerily silent all of a sudden. He heard the clock up on the wall ticking off the seconds. Those seconds turned into minutes before finally her footsteps finally headed for the door and then faded away.

* * *

Daryl was just finishing up for the day when the sound of a revving engine drew his eyes to the parking lot.

Shielding his eyes from the brilliant orange late-afternoon sun, he stepped out of the garage and immediately found the source of all the commotion.

A brand new, cherry red 1983 Mustang GT. And behind the wheel, wearing that shit-eating grin as if nothing had happened, sat Merle.

"Hey, little brother!" he called out, punctuating his words with another rev of the engine, "Come take a ride with ol' Merle!"

Daryl took his time wiping his hands clean on his grease rag as he crossed the parking lot towards the Mustang, stopping to run his fingers over the shiny hood of the car.

"You heard the big news today?" Merle asked just loud enough to be heard over the engine.

"What news?"

"Cops picked up Tina's ex-husband," Merle was watching Daryl's face carefully, "They're charging him with murder."

Daryl's hand froze on the hood and he turned to meet his brother's eyes, "What?"

An odd little half-smile appeared on Merle's face, "Yeah. I heard she was pregnant and he was jealous. If he couldn't have her, nobody could…you know, all that soap opera bullshit."

Daryl felt a weight suddenly lift off his shoulders that he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying, leaving him almost weak with relief.

He wasn't going to prison. Neither was Merle, at least not this time. And Merle hadn't murdered an innocent girl. That meant something.

He met his brother's eyes and Merle's smile broadened.

Daryl thought of the poor desperate girl with the pink laces in her white tennis shoes. He thought of her moment of kindness to him, whatever her reasons for it were, and finally found the words.

"Shame. She was a nice girl."

Merle didn't argue.

"Come on. Jump in, little brother."

* * *

"Damn nice car," Daryl muttered under his breath, running his fingers over the leather interior that he could feel but barely see in the growing darkness.

"Hell yeah it's nice," Merle crowed, "Oughta be, as much as it cost."

Daryl drained his beer, the first of the night from the six pack Merle had bought him, and eyed his brother.

"Uh huh. You think I ain't noticed the screwdriver sticking out of the ignition?" he raised a brow as Merle grinned over at him.

"That's a new feature on this model, Darlena," Merle cackled, slapping the steering wheel in his amusement, "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

The car roared around a corner, taking it like a champ, and Daryl just shook his head.

"Bet you can't hit the county limit sign up the road with that bottle there," Merle glanced over at him, changing the subject adeptly, "You ain't never had much of an arm on you, boy."

Daryl snorted dismissively and rolled down the window, shimmying his body out through it as Merle jeered at him from behind the wheel.

The narrow door frame bit into his ass as he perched precariously on it, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the slick roof of the Mustang. The wind whipped by his face too fast for his lungs to suck it in, taking his breath away, but he suddenly felt giddily alive. Maybe for the first time since he was a kid.

Merle swerved the car suddenly and Daryl's grip tightened on the window frame, knuckles turning white as his weight tipped backwards. He could hear his brother's laughter echoing through the car and it brought a smile to his face. That was typical Merle.

The road stretched on ahead, narrowing down to a point in the yellow glow of the headlights.

He saw the outline of the sign looming ahead and drew back his arm, aiming the bottle and letting it fly.

It hit the sign square in the middle. He could see the brown glass shattering into a thousand glittering pieces as they roared past.

Sliding back through the window, he caught a glimpse of white metal, bright in the darkness, tucked up in the shadows just behind the sign.

"Fuck, Merle. I think that was a-"

The sudden, sharp whooping a siren cut him off and even through the darkness Daryl could see the blood drain from his brother's face.


	9. Chapter 9

"Goddamnit, Merle! You gotta stop!"

The sirens blared louder and louder behind them as Merle jammed the accelerator to the floor. Daryl felt the panic rising, could almost taste it in the back of his throat. Sweat broke out on his face and trickled down his spine as the speedometer crept higher, the trees flashing by too quick to see.

"Can't," Merle barked out through gritted teeth, eyes flashing to the rear view and then back to the road.

"Fuck!" Daryl twisted around in his seat to see the red and blue lights flashing in the back window, "You gotta!"

"You know it's stolen, you dumb fuck."

Another squad car whipped out from a side road, tires squealing, and fell in behind them with its lights flashing wildly.

"Billy said he's got them in his pocket, right?" Daryl chewed his lip frantically, "So maybe it'll be okay, you know?"

"Not all of them," Merle said as his gaze slid towards Daryl, "Besides, this car is so loaded down with shit that no amount of money is gonna turn their heads. They'll lock us up and throw away the fucking key."

Daryl's blood seemed to turn to ice in his veins as the reality of that quiet statement set in. Fuck, they'd just squirmed free of one trap and now they'd landed square in the middle of another. It looked like his worthless ass was destined for jail.

"We'll never lose 'em on this road. It's a straight shot to Douglasville," Daryl heard himself muttering over the roar of the engine as the gears shifted in his brain.

Merle glanced over at him, lips curling up into a sneer, "No shit."

Daryl ignored him, muscles already tense and ready for flight as his eyes scanned the woods whipping by outside the window. At least they were on the same page. He should have known Merle was one step ahead of him.

His brother started singing then, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

His scratchy voice grated on Daryl's already raw nerves as he howled, "Breaking the law, breaking the law! Breaking the law-"

"Shit, bro, put a sock in it!" Daryl hissed, watching for the sharp curve he knew was coming up, "Up there."

His brother nodded once as the Mustang's headlights flashed across the curve Daryl had been waiting for.

Merle locked up the tires and with an ungodly screech, the car slid sideways around the curve and skidded into the ditch.

For a moment, Daryl struggled to orient himself. The car was tipped sideways in the ditch and he fumbled with the handle, heart pounding as the sirens grew closer. To his relief, the door finally swung open with a creak.

He landed on his feet in the bottom of the ditch, crouching low as red and blue lights flashed across the trees and the embankment behind him. The acrid smell of burned rubber filled the air.

Merle was still struggling to open the driver's side door and Daryl automatically lunged across the seat, grabbing his brother's arm to haul him out. Merle scrambled down over the seats and landed in the ditch beside Daryl with all the grace of a panther.

And then they were gone, out through the woods, with sirens screaming and lights still flashing behind them.

* * *

The cold night air bit into Daryl's skin as he dodged between the trees. He could see his breath, little puffs of steam drifting off into the dark. It was their damn Dixon luck, of course. They just had to pick the coldest damn September night in Georgia's history to go off running through the woods like a couple of jackasses.

It was just the two of them, as it always was, running side by side. The sirens faded into the distance as they moved farther and farther away until the only sound in the trees was their heavy footfalls and heavier breathing.

The darkness was thick with no moonlight to guide them. Daryl could barely make out his hands in front of his face but it didn't really matter. He knew these woods. They knew these woods.

Merle was tossing shit right and left, heaving little baggies as far out into the trees as he could manage. Daryl couldn't even figure out where they were all coming from.

"More shit in the car?"

"Yeah," Merle rasped out, drawing his arm back to toss another.

Something hit a tree ahead of them with a loud, metallic clank and Daryl ducked instinctively.

Merle cackled in the darkness beside him, "Shit! Just ditching my gun, Darlena."

Daryl cursed him under his breath as they ran on, their progress slowing as the underbrush grew thicker. Vines slapped against his exposed arms, the thorns biting into his skin and ripping through his clothes as he tried to scramble over them.

His lungs were burning from the cold air when they finally stumbled out into a clearing, the moon suddenly peeking out from behind the clouds and shining pale blue light down on them both.

Merle was bent over double, hands on his thighs as he tried desperately to catch his breath. Daryl was only slightly winded.

He reached out to touch his brother's shoulder, to urge him on, and Merle stood up straight to look him dead in the eye.

There was something different about him then and it hit Daryl right in the gut. He wasn't a coked-up asshole with their father's eyes. He was the strong, fiercely loyal boy who had always done his best to protect his little brother. But now he was weak and Daryl felt suddenly, oddly protective of him.

"Fuck am I out of shape. Been snorting too much shit I reckon," Merle panted, sweat pouring down his face despite the cold temperature, "Shitty time to find out, huh?"

Daryl tugged at his arm with all of his strength but he couldn't budge him, "We gotta keep moving, come on!"

"Nah, we need to split up," Merle was still gasping for breath as he shoved Daryl in the opposite direction, "Go on, you-you go that way."

"No!" Daryl grasped at his arm desperately, fingers digging hard into his brother's flesh before Merle yanked his arm away, "Fuck! Don't leave me, Merle!"

The clouds moved over the moon again and they were suddenly thrown back into the pitch blackness. Daryl could barely see his brother, just the wet sheen of his teeth and eyes.

"What the fuck did I just say? Run, you little pussy!" Merle hissed, shoving him again before taking off into the trees.

Daryl lost sight of him almost immediately and felt pure, bitter panic beating through his veins. His feet felt too heavy to move as he stared after Merle, mouth hanging open stupidly.

The metallic hiss of radio static somewhere just behind him made him jump and take off automatically, stumbling over a downed tree as he ducked out of the clearing.

He could suddenly hear footsteps pounding the ground behind him, boots crackling through the thick bed of pine straw. His spine was tingling; he could almost feel their breath on the back of his neck and their hands reaching out for him. He could almost hear the rattle of handcuffs closing around his wrist.

The fear drove him onwards even as the muscles in his legs screamed for rest.

The sound of running water was growing louder and he immediately knew exactly where he was. It was the little creek that ran down behind their grandma's old house and fed into the big river. It was the creek that had helped him find his way home when he'd been lost out in the woods as a kid.

He knew the creek well. Merle had taken him fishing there when he was just about knee-high and they hadn't caught a damn thing. But they'd eaten bologna sandwiches and drank Dr. Pepper and it had been a good day. Any day without their daddy had always been a good day.

Splashing through the shallow creek bed, Daryl felt the freezing water flooding into his worn out boots. His feet went numb almost immediately but he paid them no mind except to curse the wet squelch they made as he hit dry land. He could still hear the police radios crackling somewhere behind him.

He was so tempted to cut back in the direction Merle had gone. He knew he could find him and they could go hide somewhere. Get the fuck out of town and start over.

If he hadn't been so distracted, he would have heard the footsteps.

The impact took him down like a ton of bricks and knocked the breath out of his lungs. Something hard walloped him in the face; he heard the crack as it collided with his nose. Before he could even register it, something else slammed into his ribs and he tried to curl away as pain ripped through him.

As the oxygen flooded back into his lungs, he could suddenly hear screaming all around him.

"Show me your fucking hands! Turn over, asshole! On your stomach! Don't move! Show me your fucking hands, motherfucker! I said on your stomach!"

* * *

The officer shoved him roughly against the hood of the car, forcing him down hard onto his stomach. His head ricocheted off the cold metal with a solid crack and he saw stars.

The man was asking him something, questioning him, but Daryl wasn't listening. He couldn't hear the guy anyway, his heart was pounding so hard in his ears that it drowned everything else out.

But he sure as hell felt the impact of another body being shoved against the hood. Twisting his head around, he met a pair of familiar eyes.

"Guess we ain't as quick as we thought we was, little brother."

Daryl groaned, squeezing his eyes shut to the glare of red and blue still flashing all around.

"So tell me, boy. The drugs yours or do they belong to your friend here?" the officer asked Daryl casually as he rooted around in his pockets, tossing the contents onto the hood of the car.

Daryl looked over at his brother, watching him grimace as an officer kicked his legs apart to search him.

Merle's expression made his chest feel uncomfortably tight. He remembered his brother making the same face when they were kids when he'd hear their daddy's heavy, stumbling footsteps heading down the hall to their bedroom.

During every good moment and every bad moment in his life, it had only been Merle at his side. He'd never had any friends. Merle scared the hell out of the neighborhood kids every time he came home from juvie and they'd all eventually learned to steer clear of Daryl. So it was always Merle. Only Merle.

It was Merle teaching him to ride when he finally got his first bicycle; the one Merle had stolen for him. It was Merle comforting him when their daddy ran over that damned bike two days later, crumpling it all to hell. It was Merle teaching him how to bait a hook and how to punch somebody the right way. It was Merle rocking him to sleep at night when their mama and daddy were fighting and tearing up the house. It was Merle taking all the punches when he was around so Daryl didn't have to. It was Merle carrying his limp body to the hospital that Christmas Eve. It was Merle beating the ever-loving shit out of their daddy when he was finally big enough and getting sent off to juvie for it. It was Merle patiently teaching him how to track and hunt so he could survive when he was left home alone for weeks at a time. It was Merle proudly smearing thick, warm blood on his face when he killed his first deer. It was Merle that gave him his first beer and taught him how to smoke.

It was always Merle. Merle always took the fall.

The idea was just formulating in his brain, just rolling around in his skull, when he heard Merle speak up. Because that was his brother…always one step ahead.

"It's all mine, Officer. He ain't got nothing to do with it. See him? He's just a kid. Don't know a damn thing. I told him to run, it's all on me."

Daryl sighed, pressing his cheek against the cold hood as Merle met his eyes, a little smile playing on his lips. The officers stood Merle up and started reading him his rights.

Daryl felt like he was going to be sick as he watched them tighten the handcuffs around his brother's wrists.

Tortured, he struggled against the hands pinning him to the car. There was so much to say, so much he had to tell his brother.

"Ain't so bad, little brother! Three squares a day, running water, and I ain't gotta look at your mopey ass," Merle grinned as the officers attempted to wrestle him towards the waiting squad car.

They couldn't move him until he was good and damn ready. With one final nod, eyes bright, he allowed them to shove him into the car and slam the door closed behind him.

Despite Merle's confession, Daryl felt the cuffs biting into his own wrist as the officer stood him up and reached around to open the back door of the squad car.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."

Daryl slumped into the backseat, arms twisted painfully behind him.

And then the car was moving, rolling off down the highway. He pressed his forehead against the cold glass and watched the moon peek out from behind the clouds again, high above the pine trees, as the world passed by outside.

He was alone again now, no Merle at his side, but he could still hear his brother's words.

_I got your back, little brother. You know ol' Merle will always take care of you._


End file.
